


Retribution

by Linda18



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-03-24
Updated: 2000-03-24
Packaged: 2018-11-11 03:37:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11140290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linda18/pseuds/Linda18
Summary: Ray and Fraser attend a Police Officers conference in London, and get involved in murder.





	Retribution

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Due South and all of its characters belong to Alliance Communications.

Thought I'd bring Fraser and Ray Kowalski to England (wishful thinking!) for a conference.

Views good or bad to

RETRIBUTION

by Linda Hughes

Detective Ray Kowalski looked up from the file he was working on, his gaze drifting around the squad room of the 27 th precinct. He rubbed at his eyes; he had a headache from trying to tidy up some of his paperwork, which was always threatening to overwhelm both him and his desk.

The door to Lieutenant Welsh's office flew open. "Vecchio. My office now."

Ray groaned silently to himself. He slowly got to his feet wondering what he had done this time. Dragging his feet, he reluctantly entered the Lieutenant's office, his face registering surprise at seeing Fraser and Inspector Thatcher sitting on the couch. Fraser was beaming at him; Inspector Thatcher merely nodded in his direction.

"Good afternoon Ray," Fraser said.

"Frase." He turned his attention to the Lieutenant shaking his head in puzzlement. "Ya yelled Lieutenant." 

Welsh smiled and motioned him to a seat. "I have some good news for you Kowalski. You're going to England."

"I am," Ray stammered sitting down. He looked at Fraser who was still beaming.

Welsh leaned across his desk to hand him a file. "We. That is the Chicago Police Department have been invited to send a representative to the International Police Officers Conference to be held in London next month."

"And this has what to do with me?" Ray interrupted.

"You are said representative," Welsh grinned at the startled expression on the detective's face.

"Me," Ray almost squeaked looking down at the file in his hand.

"Yes. You detective," Welsh smiled at the blonde detective's surprise. "The theme of the week's conference is Crime Prevention in the 21 st Century. And you Mr Detective First Grade are going to give a paper on current policing methods employed in the United States," Welsh continued.

Ray looked up from the file he had started to read. "Whaddya mean give a paper?"

"Kowalski," Welsh sighed in exasperation. "Write a paper on said subject. Take it with you to London, and present it to the other police officers about our methods of policing over here, the problems we face, and so on. You know the sort of thing. Clear now." 

"Oh," Ray looked down at the file again. "As crystal sir."

Welsh hadn't noticed that Ray's face had become very pale. "Fraser here will be representing the R.C.M.P.," he waved in the direction of the Inspector. "Inspector Thatcher and I have agreed to share the costs of travel and accommodation for the two of you. Any other questions Kowalski?"

"Do I have a choice?" Ray asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "My case load is pretty big at the moment."

The Lieutenant looked surprised at the question. "No is not an option Detective. Pass on your current files to Huey and Dewey. Take all the time you need to prepare your paper. The Chief of Police is very keen to have Chicago seen as a shining example of the high standards of police work in the United States," Welsh replied turning to shuffling papers on his desk. "Now get outta here."

"Yes sir," Ray stood up moving towards the door, the file tucked under his arm.

Ray slowly made his way back to his desk. Slumping in his chair, he tossed the file on top of the others. He leant forward his head in his hands. He should be happy about a trip to England, but he just felt sick to his stomach. He sensed that his partner was standing in front of his desk, and took a moment to compose himself.

"Ray. Are you alright?" Fraser asked concern in his voice.

Ray looked up his partner and smiled thinly. "Yeh Frase. I'm fine. Just tired ya know," he indicated the scattered paperwork.

"Ahh I see," he sat down in the chair opposite Ray's desk placing his stetson on his knees. "I did, however, notice that you weren't entirely happy with the news of going to England," Fraser said quietly.

He stared at his hands distractedly. "What. Oh that. I'm cool with that. Yeh great fun," Ray replied trying to sound convincing. "Are you speaking?" he asked looking up trying to change to subject.

Fraser smiled. "I have been asked to produce a paper on the history of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and how we intend to tackle crime prevention in this millennium."

"That's good. Good," Ray replied quietly. "I look forward to hearing it."

"Ray are you sure you are alright?" Fraser asked again.

"Yeh I'm fine. We'll have a ball," he said jumping to his feet and disappearing through the double doors. Fraser watched his partner disappear from the squad room. He was surprised at Ray's reaction to the trip to England; he had thought he would be pleased. He went in search of his friend finding him in the coffee room, staring absently at a cup of steaming coffee.

"Ray. Please tell me what is bothering you. Perhaps I can help," Fraser sat down opposite his friend.

His partner continued to stare at his coffee cup. "I don't wanna go," Ray said so quietly that Fraser nearly missed it.

"That's just silly Ray," Fraser said in surprise. "It is an honour to represent one's department. 

Ray looked up at his friend's face. "Yeh, I know Frase. But I aint me remember," he said quietly looking back at his coffee. "It'll go on Vecchio's record."

"Oh Ray. I didn't think. I'm so sorry," Fraser patted his friend's hand in comfort not knowing what to say. He had a feeling that Ray wasn't telling him everything, but decided to stick to a safe subject for the time being. "I have never been to England, but I am told it has many interesting things to see, and the programme allows us time for some sightseeing. And the Lieutenant and the Inspector have allowed us a few days after the conference to explore."

Ray sighed heavily taking a sip from his coffee and making an face. "So what kinda of sights do they have in England for us to see?" Ray asked attempting to distract Fraser from the real reason why he didn't want to go to England. It worked as he knew it would; he sat quietly listening to his friend describe the interesting places they could visit while they were in London.

**************

A month later the two partners were sitting in the Arrivals Hall of Heathrow Airport, their baggage at their feet. "So what time is our ride arriving?" Ray asked his partner.

Fraser glanced down at this watch. "Soon Ray," he replied.

"I aint good at waiting Frase. Ya know that," Ray stood up starting to pace up and down. "They should have been here half an hour ago."

"Ray. Please sit down. You are making me feel quite tired," Fraser said with a hint of exasperation. Ever since they had left Chicago, his partner had been a bundle of nervous energy, and it was beginning to become wearing. Ignoring his partner, the blonde detective continued to pace. "Ray," Fraser raised his voice. "Sit down now." At his friend's startled look, he quickly added, " Please." Ray slumped down and stared moodily at his boots. "Thank you kindly."

"Yer welcome," Ray grumbled.

The partners sat in silence for a further ten minutes, but Ray continued to fidget in his seat. He suddenly jumped up, "I'm going to get a coffee. Can I get ya anything Frase?" he asked.

"No thank you Ray. I'm fine," Fraser answered. Ray nodded, and headed off in the direction of a small coffee shop.

Fraser gazed around the lounge, watching the bustle of humanity. He turned his attention back to his friend as he ambled into the coffee shop. Fraser frowned and cursed himself silently as a forgotten memory surfaced. He recalled that his friend had been less than happy about attending the conference; he had told Fraser it was because he would still have to pretend to be Ray Vecchio. Fraser wasn't convinced this was the real reason meaning to question his partner further, but it had slipped his mind. He had been so wrapped up in preparing his own paper that he hadn't noticed that his partner had been unusually quiet and withdrawn for the last month. He berated himself again, making a mental note to question Ray on what was troubling him at the first opportunity. He was startled out of his reverie by someone calling his name. A tall red-haired man hurried towards him. "Constable Fraser?"

Fraser stood up. "Yes."

The man offered Fraser his hand. "I am so sorry I'm late. One of our driver's is sick, and I couldn't get a replacement. Then I got caught up in the traffic."

"No trouble at all," Fraser replied shaking the man's hand. Ray had wandered back, a cup of coffee in his hand. "This is my partner Detective Ray Vecchio from the Chicago Police Department." Ray smiled and shook hands with the man, who regarded the blonde detective with cool eyes.

"How rude of me. I'm Philip Denver. My company is organising the conference on behalf of the Metropolitan Police." Grabbing one of the bags, "Come on the car's this way," he said as he led the partner's towards the exit.

*************

An hour and a half later, the vehicle drew up opposite a large London hotel. Fraser was relieved that Ray had stopped fidgeting; instead he had been quietly looking out of the window. Philip Denver slid out of the driving side, opening the door for the partners. "Here we are," he said as he moved towards the back of the vehicle to retrieve the bags. Handing them their bags he said, "I'm off now to pick up some delegates from Gatwick Airport. Just go inside the hotel foyer. My partner will be waiting for you."

"Thank you kindly Mr. Denver," Fraser said. "I hope we will see you later on."

"Yes you will. I'll be at the dinner this evening. Nice to meet you both," he said opening the driver's door.

"Thanks," Ray mumbled as he looked left and stepped off the pavement to cross the road to the hotel.

Fraser caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. "Ray," he yelled pulling his partner back onto the pavement before a black taxi ran into his friend. Ray stumbled and ended up sitting on the floor.

"Frase," Ray cried in protest.

"Ray. This is the United Kingdom. The cars drive on the other side of the road. Therefore, you have to look right not left," Fraser explained offering his friend a hand up.

"I knew that," Ray scowled at him as Fraser hauled him to his feet. 

Philip Denver had hurried over from the vehicle. "Are you alrigh Detective?" he asked concern on his face. 

"Yeh fine. Thanks," Ray whispered embarrassed brushing at his jeans.

Philip smiled. "Since coming home, I have done it myself many times. You'll soon get used to it," he declared. "Must go now. I'll see you both later at the dinner."

Fraser grinned as he led his partner across the road towards the hotel. "It would be embarrassing for the Chicago Police Department if one of their detectives was run over on his first day in London." Ray scowled again and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Holding the hotel door open Fraser ushered his partner in with a small bow. "After you Detective."

Before Ray could offer a reply, a medium built sandy haired man hurried over towards the partners. "Good afternoon. I'm Richard Meredith. If you'd like to come this way, I'll help you register," he said leading the partner's towards a small desk. "I just need to see your passports, and you need to fill in this form for me. Then I'll get someone to show you to your room." 

"Thank you kindly," Fraser replied taking the cards, handing one to Ray.

Richard Meredith smiled at the partners. "The rest of the day is free for you to do as you choose. The welcome dinner is here at 8.00 p.m. An optional city tour is arranged for tomorrow afternoon. Then the conference begins on Monday morning. If either of you need anything, please do not hesitate to call me or my partner Philip, and we'll try and help." Richard Meredith efficiently registered the two men. Handing them a conference programme each. "I do hope that you enjoy your visit to London." 

**************

Ray was lying on one of the beds, his eyes closed. Fraser was staring out of the window. "Well Ray my friend. We're here. What do you want to do this afternoon?" Fraser asked turning towards his friend.

Ray opened his eyes. "Don't mind. Ya choose Frase," Ray replied sitting up picking up the programme and idly flicking through the pages. "I see yer scheduled to talk on Monday afternoon."

"When are you speaking Ray?" Fraser asked sitting on the opposite bed. 

"Don't know. Don't care," Ray stood and moved towards the window, staring out across the alien city. The sky was grey and gloomy, and it had begun to rain. Ray usually found that staring out across the city helped lift his spirits, but the view was unfamiliar leaving him feeling lost and miserable.

"Ray," Fraser scolded.

"What," Ray cried turning towards his partner, his blue eyes flashing with anger.

"Look Frase. Just go out and see some sights. I wanna be on my own. OK?" he turned back to the window.

Fraser regarded his friend for a moment. "No. It is not OK."

"Fine. I'll leave then," Ray started towards the door grabbing his jacket from the bed. Fraser was quicker and stood in front of the door. 

"Ray. You are not leaving here and neither am I until you tell me what is wrong," Fraser said a hint of anger in his voice. " I thought you would be pleased about a trip to England." 

Ray stepped back and studied his boots. "I am. It would be great if I didn't have to...," he stammered.

"Didn't have to what?" Fraser asked curious. "Ray. You have been miserable and unusually quiet since the day Lieutenant Welsh told you about the conference. Please tell me what is wrong? And I know it's just not about having to be Ray Vecchio." 

Ray looked at his partner startled at the comment. "OK. OK. I don't wanna speak. It makes me feel sick to think about it. Ever since.... Well I just know I'm gonna throw up if I have to stand up there in front of all those people and speak," he yelled slumping on the bed his head in his hands.

"Oh dear. Ray why didn't you say something before?" Fraser asked sitting down next to his friend. "Why didn't you tell Lieutenant Welsh?"

Ray lifted his head and frowned at his partner. "Oh yeh. That would have been cool. Lieutenant I can't speak because I'll throw up over the audience," Ray dropped his head back on to his hands. "God I suck."

"No you don't Ray," Fraser admonished. A puzzled look crossed his face, "I don't understand. I have seen you in court, and you speak very well. I am always impressed with how well you handle the proceedings."

"Yeh I know. Still don't like it. Have sleepless nights before a court appearance, and usually lose my breakfast on the day," Ray grinned thinly. 

"Ahhh," Fraser murmured. 

"The fact is Frase. I'd rather face up to an armed gang than stand up and speak," Ray admitted sadly. "Ever since... ever since high school when I had to stand up and talk on the Constitution. I just sorta freaked out. Everyone started laughing, even Stella. I just ran, and tossed up my lunch in the toilet."

"Ray. Listen to me. You will be fine. I have read your paper. It's an excellent well thought out piece of work. No-one will laugh this time," Fraser soothed.

"Ya think," Ray glanced sideways at his partner.

"I do," Fraser acknowledged. "And I'll be there to offer support."

"I know ya will. Thanks Frase," Ray still sounded doubtful.

"Can I give you some advice?" Fraser asked.

"Yeh OK," Ray narrowed his eyes at Fraser. "It aint some Inuit breathing technique thingy is it?" he asked anxiously.

Fraser grinned. "No Ray. It's two simple pieces of advice. First pretend that you are in court, and your paper is the evidence you are giving."

"And second," Ray interrupted.

"Don't eat breakfast," Fraser laughed as Ray favoured him with a dirty look. "Now shall we go out and enjoy some of the sights that London has to offer?" Fraser asked.

"Yeh. OK Frase. Hey it's raining. I might even get a sore throat and not be able to speak," Ray said hopefully shrugging into his jacket.

"Ray," Fraser chided.

"Sorry Frase. Wishful thinking," Ray replied sheepishly.

"Oh Ray," Fraser said as he closed the door behind them.

"Yeh Frase,"

"Remember. It's look right, then left," Fraser grinned at his partner.

"Oh funny guy. Hardy ha ha," Ray pressed the lift button smiling back at his partner.

**************

The two partners spent the afternoon exploring some of the sights that London had to offer. They decided to take a London Pride Bus Tour of the city bravely sitting on the top floor of the open-topped red double decker bus, ignoring the light rain, pointing out sights that they had only seen on television to each other. They sat with the other tourists in Trafalgar Square feeding the pigeons. Fraser had a small camera with him, and had persuaded a passer-by to take a photograph of them standing by one of the lions at the bottom of Nelson's column. The rain had finally forced them into a MacDonald's restaurant, and they sat in companionable silence watching the bustle of the city pass by the window. 

"Not much different to a rainy day in Chicago," Ray said looking up from his coffee.

Fraser smiled; his partner's mood had improved during the afternoon. "No Ray. I think that most cities are pretty much the same. Just different accents."

"Mmmm," Ray stared out of the window. "Frase. Sorry about earlier. Just being a jerk. Shoulda told ya sooner."

"That's quite alright Ray. I understand," Fraser answered looking at his watch. "I think we should be getting back to the hotel to get ready for the dinner tonight."

"Do ya wanna take the tour tomorrow afternoon, or shall we explore on our own?" Ray asked as he stood up.

"I've enjoyed this afternoon. Would you mind if we explored on our own. I'd like to see Buckingham Palace and the Changing of the Guard," Fraser replied hopefully.

"Yeh me too," Ray grinned. "That's settled then."

Fraser sat in the hotel foyer, resplendent in full red dress uniform, waiting for his partner. He smiled to himself; he had never known anyone who took so long in the shower as his partner. He watched as the lift floor indicator moved slowly downwards. The doors drew apart revealing Ray, who bounced over towards him grinning widely. He was wearing a black dinner jacket, black trousers, and a neat white shirt topped with a blue bow-tie. His blonde hair was sticking up wildly, although it looked as if his partner had tried, unsuccessfully, to tame it. Fraser stood up. "I'm impressed Ray. You scrub up quite nicely," he teased.

"Guessed if I was sitting next to an ironed, wrinkle-free Mountie, I oughta try and look presentable," Ray replied. "Anyways, don't wanna let the C.P.D. and Lieutenant Welsh down."

The partners walked slowly towards the main function suite. They were ushered into a small pre-function room where a waitress offered them a drink. Both Fraser and Ray selected an orange juice standing just inside the door surveying their fellow officers.

"Constable Fraser. Detective Vecchio," Philip Denver called advancing on them waving. "Have you had an enjoyable afternoon?"

"Yes thank you kindly," Fraser answered politely. "We have been exploring your wonderful city.

Philip smiled. "Let me introduce you to some fellow officers," he led the partners towards a man and woman standing in the corner. "This is Detective Chief Inspector Michael Shillingford from the Metropolitan Police, your host for the conference." 

Philip excused himself as Fraser and Ray both shook hands with the tall thin man, who smiled warmly at them. "Welcome to London. I am really looking forward to hearing you both speak." He indicated the young woman standing at his side, silently regarding the two men. Wearing a long blue evening gown, her shoulder length mousy coloured hair was swept up at the sides held in place with silver hair clips. 

"Let me introduce you to Detective Sergeant Joanne Miller from the New York Police Department."

The woman half smiled at the partners. "So you're a Mountie," she directed her question to Fraser. 

"Hey you oughta be a detective," Ray muttered under his breath. Chief Inspector Shillingford smirked at the comment although Sergeant Miller didn't appear to have heard him.

Fraser nudged his partner gently in the ribs. "Yes I am. Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and this is my partner Detective Ray Vecchio from the Chicago Police Department," he answered politely.

She scowled at Ray. "So you're the chosen one who's going to talk about policing methods in the States. Do you think the C.P.D. is qualified enough to be able to do that?"

"I think we can give the N.Y.P.D. a run for their money," Ray replied, a hint of anger in his voice. 

Sergeant Miller glared at him threateningly. "I doubt that very much. So what you doing with a Mountie as a partner? C.P.D. desperate for the help," she asked icily.

"It's a honour to have a Mountie as my partner," Ray replied quietly.

Sergeant Miller looked Fraser up and down from head to toe. "Nice uniform," she said making Fraser blush bright red. Turning her attention back to Ray. "I look forward to hearing your paper. I have so many questions to ask you," she scowled. 

Ray was about to reply when Chief Inspector Shillingford quickly intervened. "I think we can go through to dinner now," he started to steer Sergeant Miller out of the pre-function room.

"See you later boys," she said over her shoulder blowing a kiss in Ray's direction.

Ray glared at his partner. "Ya still think I'll be OK with people like her in the audience?" he stabbed a finger at the woman.

"Yes I do Ray. Let's go into dinner. I understand roast beef is on the menu," Fraser answered tugging at his partner's arm leading him towards the dining room.

Fraser and Ray found themselves seated at a table with six other police officers: two from the United Kingdom, two from the United States, one from France and one from Switzerland. After a welcoming speech from the Chief Inspector, the dinner was served \- prawn cocktail, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding followed by apple pie and cream.

While Fraser was engrossed in a conversation in french with the Inspector from Paris, Ray sipped at his coffee lazily gazing around the room at the other guests. Sergeant Miller had been glaring at the two partners all evening. After the dessert had been served, she had passed by their table scowling nastily at him giving Ray an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. All his fears about speaking in front of a large audience came rushing back, threatening to overwhelm him. He felt sick and his head began to pound. "Oh God Kowalski, don't throw up," he groaned silently to himself.

"Ray. Are you alright?" Fraser whispered nudging his elbow.

"Yeh Frase. Just gonna get some fresh air," Ray answered looking at his partner's concerned face. "I'm fine. Be back in a minute. Save me a mint," he grinned. 

Fraser watched as his friend made his way towards the door. Frowning, he wondered whether to follow; his partner had looked quite pale. Inspector LaCroix asked him a question, and he politely turned to answer deciding to follow his friend in a few minutes.

**************

She scowled at the blonde detective as she passed his table. Detective Sergeant Joanne Miller was angry; she had been bitterly disappointed when her Captain had informed that her a representative from the C.P.D. would be giving the paper on policing methods employed in the United States. She was determined to give the skinny detective a hard time when he spoke on Wednesday; she would make him pay for her disappointment. Grinning to herself, she opened her purse taking out her cigarettes. "Damn, their stupid no smoking policy," she murmured to herself as she lit her cigarette stepping out into the street. Lost in her thoughts of revenge on the C.P.D., she didn't hear the sound of footsteps behind her until someone grabbed her arm. Turning in surprise she tried to jerk her arm free, but he was stronger and dragged her into an alleyway.

Dropping her cigarette, she struggled against her attacker. He banged her head up against the wall. "Quiet bitch," the man growled as he hauled the now stunned woman towards the end of the alleyway throwing her roughly into the corner. 

She shook her head in an effort to clear the fogginess. Her attacker loomed over her menacingly and she whimpered. "Please don't hurt me."

"You gave them no choice bitch," he whispered raising his arm in the air. She looked up seeing the cricket bat as it descended towards her head.

**************

Ray escaped into the hotel foyer. Looking at the entrance doors, he decided to stroll along the road to clear his head. Once outside, he began to feel much better. His head had stopped hurting and he took deep breaths as he wandered along the street. The rain had stopped and the sky was clear, a few stars twinkling in the darkness. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he slowly sauntered along the street breathing in the sights and smells of the city. Passing an alleyway at the edge of the hotel, he thought he saw someone move in the shadows out of the corner of his eye. His policeman instincts aroused, Ray carefully made his way down towards some large dustbins where he had thought he had seen the movement. He peered into the gloominess; it was then that he saw her. Detective Sergeant Joanne Miller was lying on her back, her blue gown coloured red. Ray swallowed hard turning away; what was left of her face was staring up towards the night sky. He knew that she was dead, but he turned back forcing himself forward to check for a pulse anyway. He immediately felt guilty as a thought crossed his mind; she wouldn't be able to taunt him on Wednesday. Straightening up, he heard a sound from somewhere behind him. Turning to investigate the source of the noise, he saw that a figure had stepped out from the shadows calmly walking towards the street.

"Hey you," Ray shouted running towards the figure.

Startled the man swung around, his arm raised threateningly. Swinging the cricket bat, he hit Ray hard across the arm that the blonde had raised in defence. Crying out in pain, Ray staggered catching a glimpse of cold green eyes as the second blow hit him across the side of the head. His knees gave way and Ray collapsed forward onto the ground. He heard the bat hit the ground, and the sound of footsteps running up the alleyway. He tried to raise his head, but the darkness engulfed him.

Fraser was enjoying talking to the other guests at the table. A young detective from the Philadelphia Police Department was listening intently to his third Inuit story. Both men were distracted by a waitress dropping a tray and crying out. Looking to where she was staring, Fraser saw his partner leaning heavily on the door frame, clutching at his head with his left hand. Ray's face was deathly pale, his white shirt stained red from the blood which was flowing from a large gash on the side of his head.

"Frase," Ray started to stumble towards the Mountie.

Fraser had jumped to his feet making his way quickly over to his partner. As he reached him, Ray toppled forwards into his arms. Fraser carefully lowered him to the floor. Fraser loosened his partner's bow-tie and shirt collar; snatching a napkin from the nearest table, he pressed it hard against Ray's head to stem the bleeding. Ray was mumbling, and Fraser leant closer in order to try and hear what his friend was saying. "She's dead. In the alleyway," Ray mumbled.

"What did he say?" Chief Inspector Shillingford had appeared at Fraser's side, crouching down, concern showing on his face. Richard Meredith hovered in the background trying to persuade the gathering crowd to go back to their tables.

"I think your men need to check the alleyway. He seems to think that someone is dead," Fraser answered turning back to his friend.

The Chief Inspector stood up motioning to a tall broad shouldered man. "Sergeant Gordon. Check out the alleyways around here. Report back as soon as you have," he ordered crouching back down in front of the partners. 

"Right you are sir," Sergeant Gordon left the dining room quickly beckoning to other officers. 

His face pale, Ray was now struggling to sit up. "Sergeant Miller's dead," he said more coherently. 

Fraser supported his partner's back continuing to press the napkin against his head. "Sit still for a minute Ray. Officers have gone to check," Fraser soothed patting his arm. Ray whimpered at the touch. Fraser frowned. "Does your arm hurt Ray?"

"Bit sore," Ray admitted biting his bottom lip. "Someone hit me with a bat."

"I'll call an ambulance," the Chief Inspector decided.

"No," Ray murmured stubbornly. "No hospitals."

Fraser looked at the Chief Inspector. "I'm afraid my partner doesn't like hospitals. And he can be quite obstinate on the matter," he explained motioning to his partner to hold the napkin in place. "Is there a hotel doctor?"

"No. But I'll organise for our police surgeon to come and take a look at him. As long as you're sure he shouldn't be in hospital," the Chief Inspector looked anxiously at the blonde detective.

Fraser caught the look. "Don't worry. If the doctor thinks he should go to hospital, I will take him there. Over my shoulder if I have to," Fraser stared sternly at his partner. Ray groaned as he allowed Fraser to haul him to his feet. Fraser supported his partner as he led him towards the door.

"OK folks. Nothing more to see," the Chief Inspector said to the gathering crowd. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

**************

The partners passed Philip Denver as they made their way towards the lift. "Oh my goodness. What an earth has happened?"

"Chief Inspector Shillingford will fill you in. I need to get my partner back to our room," Fraser replied curtly.

"Oh course," Philip replied as he pushed the lift button for the partners. "Let me know if there is anything I can do."

Fraser nodded at the man and helped Ray into the lift. As the partners made their way slowly along the carpeted corridor towards their room, Ray leaned slightly on Fraser. Half way along, Ray suddenly felt like he was on a roundabout; the corridor had started to spin and he swayed. Fraser caught him before he hit the floor. Ignoring his partner's protests, Fraser lifted Ray into his arms carrying him the rest of the way. Opening the door, Fraser carefully laid his partner on the bed. Ray closed his eyes in pain. Fraser disappeared into the bathroom returning with a glass of water offering it to Ray.

"Thanks Frase," Ray muttered taking a small sip.

Fraser studied his partner. "Ray. I think you need to go to the hospital."

"No," Ray repeated stubbornly struggling out of his jacket. "It's only a cut. I'll be fine."

A knock at the door announced the arrival of the doctor. Fraser went to open the door. Turning back to his friend, he adopted his sternest expression. "If the doctor says you are to go to hospital, you are going whether you like it or not."

"Understood," Ray mimicked his partner's prim tones, grinning weakly.

Shaking his head in despair, Fraser opened the door on the third knock to reveal a stocky grey haired man carrying a large black bag. "Good evening. Dr. James Campbell. Chief Inspector Shillingford sent me," his accent revealed a soft Scottish lilt.

"Good evening Doctor. Your patient," Fraser said motioning towards his partner.

Smiling warmly, the doctor stepped over towards the bed sitting down beside Ray placing his bag on the opposite bed. "Hello young man. I see you've been in the wars. Let's have a quick look at you." The doctor quickly but efficiently cleaned up Ray's head injury applying plaster stitches and then a dressing to protect the wound. Ray winced in pain as the doctor flexed his arm to check for fractures. After a thorough half an hour examination, the doctor straightened up. Fraser suppressed a smirk as the doctor fixed Ray with a no-nonsense expression. "Right young man. I know exactly what you policeman are like. You are to take it easy for a couple of days. If you have any headaches, blurred or double vision you are to get your partner here to take you to hospital immediately. Is that understood?" he asked calmly. 

"Yeh. Thanks Doctor," Ray whispered meekly.

"Your arm is going to be quite sore for a few days. But you were lucky, there's no broken bones. And you are going to have quite a shiner there," he pointed to Ray's eye, which had begun to turn a bluish colour. Smiling he stood up. "I'm going to leave some painkillers with your partner."

The doctor beamed as Fraser led him to the door. Turning he pressed his card, as well as a small bottle of painkillers, into the Mountie's hand. "Keep a close eye on him, and call me if you need anything Constable." He looked over Fraser's shoulder at Ray, "Now get some rest, young man."

"Don't worry, I'll keep a close eye on him. Thank you kindly Doctor," Fraser replied. 

Doctor Campbell nodded at Chief Inspector Shillingford and Sergeant Gordon as they appeared at the doorway. "Constable. Can we come in? We need to ask your partner some questions," the Chief Inspector enquired.

Fraser opened the door wider to let the two men step into the room. "Of course Chief Inspector. Please come in." 

"Detective Vecchio. How are you feeling?" the Chief Inspector asked walking towards the blonde detective. Sergeant Gordon took out a small notebook and sat down on the opposite bed. Fraser quietly closed the door, sitting down in the chair near to the window.

"Better now. Thanks. "Did ya....," Ray started to say.

"Yes. I am afraid as you told us Sergeant Miller is dead. We found her in the alleyway by the hotel. According to our forensic experts, she was probably killed about five or ten minutes before you discovered her body."

"Oh," Ray mumbled studying his hands. 

"Can you tell me what you remember?" the Chief Inspector asked. 

Ray screwed his eyes up, running his hand through his blonde hair. "Well. I was feeling kinda sick. So I went for a little walk to clear my head. I was walking past the alleyway. I think I see something. So I go to investigate," he paused to think.

"Go on," the Chief Inspector encouraged.

"Then I..... Well I see her. She's just sorta lying there covered in blood," he shuddered at the memory closing his eyes. Ray swallowed and opened his eyes; he glanced at Fraser who gave him a re-assuring nod. "I heard a noise behind me. I look round and see him walking calm as ya like up the alleyway. So I go after him," Ray looked up at the Chief Inspector who nodded. "Next thing I remember is the bat hitting me. Then the lights go out. The rest ya know."

"Thank you Detective. Tell me, did you get a look at your attacker?" Shillingford asked.

"I can't really remember. I mighta seen his face before he hit me," Ray said, a hint of frustration in his voice. "Things are sorta of fuzzy at the moment."

"Quite understandable," the Chief Inspector murmured.

"What about build or height?" Sergeant Gordon asked looking up from his notebook.

Ray screwed up his eyes again. "My height. Fraser's build," he said confidently. "And I think he was wearing a dark boiler suit."

The Sergeant scribbled in the notebook. "Yes, we found the boilersuit dumped in one the bins behind the neighbouring hotel. Forensics have it for tests."

Fraser who had been sitting quietly stood up. "May I ask how Detective Sergeant Miller was killed?" he asked. 

The Chief Inspector regarded the Mountie for a moment. Mind made up. "She was beaten repeatedly with a cricket bat. She didn't stand a chance. Same bat that was used on your friend here," he indicated Ray.

Ray had paled. "Ya mean he hit me with a bat that had her blood on it," he gasped staggering to his feet tugging at his shirt. 

Fraser stepped forward as his partner rushed towards the bathroom. "Excuse me a moment gentlemen," he said to the two officers.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, Fraser knelt by his partner gently rubbing his back as Ray promptly lost his dinner. He helped his partner out of his shirt, and wrapped a towelling robe around his trembling shoulders. "I'll be back in the moment. You stay here," he said slipping out of the bathroom.

The Chief Inspector looked concerned. "Will he be alright?"

"Yes. He'll be fine," Fraser replied. "I'm sure a good night's sleep will do him good."

"We'll come back in the morning to take his statement. In the meantime, I'll place a Constable on the door just in case," the Chief Inspector said moving towards the door, motioning to the sergeant to follow him. "Good night Constable. And lock the door behind us."

Fraser carefully locked the door behind the two men, and hurried back to the bathroom. Ray's clothes were lying in a pile in the corner, and his partner had slipped into the towelling robe. The blonde detective was leaning against the bath, his eyes squeezed shut. He opened them as he heard Fraser entering the room. "Sorry Frase. Sorta freaked there fer a minute." 

Fraser knelt at his side. "It is quite understandable Ray. Don't worry. The Chief Inspector is coming back tomorrow to take your statement." Putting his hand lightly on Ray's shoulder, he noticed that his slender partner was still trembling. "Come on. I think you should be in bed," he said carefully hauling his friend to his feet. Fraser helped Ray towards the bed, pulling back the covers. Ray slumped down on the bed as Fraser disappeared back into the bathroom. He returned with a glass of water, which he offered to Ray along with two tablets. "Here take these. They'll help." Ray obediently swallowed the tablets, handing the glass back to Fraser. Setting the glass aside, Fraser swung Ray's legs onto the bed, gently pushing his friend backwards covering him with the thick blanket. 

"Wish Dief were here," Ray mumbled as he turned on his side half asleep.

"Why?" Fraser asked confused, but his friend was already asleep. Fraser dimmed the light as made his way over to the armchair, which he pulled closer to the twin beds. Making himself comfortable, he watched as his friend slept. 

Newly promoted Detective Peter Wilkins of the Philadelphia Police Department ambled along the hotel corridor back towards his room. His parents had been so proud when his Captain had chosen him as the department's representative at the conference, and he was determined not to let anyone down. He smiled to himself, he was glad now that he had taken the transfer back to his home city. 

Peter had enjoyed the dinner finding himself seated to a Mountie who seemed pleased that he had found someone to tell his stories to; Peter had found them fascinating. His smile turned to a frown as he remembered the events that had occurred after the dinner. The Mountie's un-official partner, a quiet blonde haired man from Chicago, had left the dining room returning later covered in blood. Curious, he had asked one of the British policemen and discovered that a fellow officer had been brutally murdered and dumped in an alleyway. Apparently, the Mountie's partner had been attacked by the murderer.

Absorbed in thought, he failed to hear the footsteps behind him. He gasped as something was looped around his throat making him cry out. His attacker dragged him towards a linen closet. Peter tried to twist away from his attacker, but the man had a firm hold overpowering the detective. Opening the door, the man dragged Peter into the closet and shoved him roughly to the floor. Peter tried to jump to his feet, but a foot to his chest winded him knocking him back down to the floor. The man jumped on top of him putting his hands around his throat, squeezing tightly. Peter desperately thrashed under his attacker fighting for breath, his arms flailing wildly at his attacker's hands. He began to see stars as the pressure on his throat tightened; his last thought was of his parents as his wind-pipe was crushed. 

**************Fraser had woken early. He checked on his still sleeping friend before showering and changing. He now stood quietly staring out of the window across the city. Sunday had dawned dull and grey, and heavy rain rapped on the window as the trees swayed in the wind. Turnbull had warned him about the English weather, and he smiled to himself at the memory. A noise from behind him made him turn. Ray was sitting up in bed, his blonde hair sticking up wildly. His right eye was completely black, and his cheek had a yellowish tinge. 

"Good morning Ray. How are you feeling this morning?" he asked walking towards his partner. "Do you feel like any breakfast?"

"OK. Thanks. Nah not really hungry Frase. Ya go ahead. I'm gonna grab a shower," Ray struggled out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Fraser heard the shower being turned on. Picking up the telephone, he ordered breakfast from room service, hoping that his partner would change his mind.

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Fraser cautiously opened the door revealing the Chief Inspector and the Sergeant. "Good morning Constable. Can we come in?" he asked. Fraser waved the two men into the room. The Chief Inspector looked around the room as Fraser closed the door. "Is Detective Vecchio here?" he seemed anxious. Before Fraser could reply, Ray appeared from the bathroom, dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt; a large blackblue bruise showed below the sleeve covering most of his arm down to the elbow.

"Good morning Detective Vecchio. You look a lot better than you did last night, even with the black eye," the Chief Inspector smiled. 

"Thanks, I think," Ray answered sitting down on the bed. "Might have to get ya to write a letter explaining to my Lieutenant that I wasn't brawling."

"It would be my pleasure," the Chief Inspector grinned. His expression turned serious. "However, I'm the bearer of more bad news. It would seem that our murderer has struck again. A young detective from Philadelphia was strangled early this morning. One of the hotel chambermaids found him in a linen closet."

"Oh dear," Fraser said glancing at his friend. 

The Chief Constable caught Fraser's worried look. "Yes. I'm afraid that means your partner is our only lead." Turning his attention back to Ray. "Have you been able to remember anything else that might help?" he asked hopefully.

"Nah. It's still kinda fuzzy. Keep thinking I can see his face, but then it just sorta disappears. Sorry," Ray stared at his boots frustrated.

The Chief Inspector kindly patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. It'll come back. If it does, you are to contact me or Ian," he indicated the Sergeant. "In the meantime, I'm posting an officer at your door. I think it would safer if you stayed in the hotel for now."

Ray was about to protest, but the Chief Inspector silenced him with a wave of his hand. "We already have two dead officers, I don't want another one." he motioned to the Sergeant to follow. "Oh by the way, in case you are wondering, the conference has been cancelled as a mark of respect for the dead officers and their families."

Fraser closed and locked the door behind the two men. Ray jumped up from the bed and started to pace the room. "Frase. This is stupid. I'll go mad cooped up in here," he cried. "It'll be worse than having to stand up and speak."

"Ray. Ray. Ray. Calm down," Fraser stood in front of his friend to stop him pacing the room. "It's for your own safety. Now sit down. I've ordered breakfast for us," he soothed.

Ray stubbornly moved over to the window, turning his back on his partner. He dimly heard Fraser letting in the Room Service Waiter, vaguely hearing the sound of a trolley being pushed towards the small table. Closing his eyes he desperately tried to remember what the man looked like. "Come on Kowalski. Think," he thought to himself. He screwed his eyes up tighter, but all he could see was Sergeant Miller's body covered in blood, her mangled face staring up at him. He gripped the window frame as a sudden memory flashed into his mind; a face with cold green eyes stared at him. He recoiled in terror as something touched his shoulder. Swinging round, he found himself facing a very worried looking Fraser. 

"Ray. Are you alright? Ray," Fraser said noticing the look of panic cross his friend's blue eyes. 

"Give me a heart attack, why don't ya," Ray trembled shrugging the hand off his shoulder, and moving towards the table, sitting down in one of the chairs. Fraser quietly sat opposite him.

"Try and eat something," Fraser encouraged taking a slice of toast.

"Not hungry," Ray said stubbornly pouring himself a cup of coffee. He took a sip making a face placing the cup back down on the table.

Fraser got up and rummaged in his hand luggage. "Here these may help," he handed Ray a packet of smarties. Ray looked at him in surprise.

"Knew you couldn't drink your coffee without them," Fraser grinned.

Dropping a few of the sweets into the coffee, Ray smiled back at his partner. "So what do ya think about the murders? If it's some psycho who hates cops, we could be in big trouble. We got wall to wall cops in the hotel. So it don't narrow the field down any. Our murderer can take his pick ," Ray said.

Fraser buttered himself another slice of toast. "At first I surmised it might be a random killing. One of those unfortunate incidents that can happen in any city in the world, but now I am not so sure. The second murder makes it more difficult to explain away as indiscriminate. Both murders seem too cold-blooded to be just random. And if it were someone who hated policemen, why didn't our murderer kill you when he had the chance." 

"Don't wanna think about that," Ray sipped at his coffee. "So ya think the two are connected somehow?"

"Mmmm," Fraser looked thoughtful.

Ray sighed loudly. "I just hate when ya do that Mmm thingy. What's that Canadian fer anyways?"

"Just Mmmm," Fraser replied.

"If I didn't already have a head injury, I'd give myself one," Ray said exasperated.

"Well that's just silly Ray," Fraser chastised. 

A knock at the door interrupted the partner's friendly banter. Motioning for Ray to stay put, Fraser moved towards the door. "Who's there?" he asked.

"Richard Meredith and Philip Denver. The Constable here said it was alright to visit," Meredith said.

Fraser opened the door ushering the two men into the room. "We just came to check on Detective Vecchio. See if there was anything we could do for either of you," Philip said.

"Thank you kindly. We are fine. Chief Inspector Shillingford is looking after us," Fraser replied gesturing for the two men to sit down.

"This whole business is just awful. Two murders, and your partner here attacked. It's just awful," Richard declared looking towards Ray. "Are you sure that you are alright Detective Vecchio? Michael tells us that you can't remember who attacked you."

"Yeh I'm fine. No, I can't but it'll come back to me," Ray smiled at the two men. He sat quietly listening as the two men talked to Fraser. He could feel Philip Denver staring at him making him shiver slightly. His head had begun to throb again and he closed his eyes against the pain. The cold green eyes flashed into his mind again, and Ray stiffened at the memory. He gripped the arms of his chair trying to fight back his rising panic.

Fraser looked over to his partner. Ray's face was pale, and he was gripping the chair tightly. Jumping to his feet, he stood in front on his partner shielding him from the two men. "Well gentlemen. We appreciate you coming to enquire as to our well being, but the doctor said my partner should try and rest as much as possible."

Richard Meredith flushed slightly, pulling at his partner's arm. "Yes of course Constable. We'll be leaving now," he said as Fraser shepherded them towards the door. "Please call me if I can be of assistance. I will be in the reception area for the rest of the day."

"Thank you kindly," Fraser replied closing the door firmly as they left. He hurried over to his friend, who was still gripping the chair his eyes tightly closed.

"I saw him," Ray muttered opening his eyes. "I saw his eyes Frase."

"Describe him Ray," Fraser said softly. "Tell me what you saw?"

Ray jumped to his feet in frustration. "It's still kinda of fuzzy. I keep seeing green eyes, but I can't see his face properly. The eyes just sorta flashed into my mind when ya were talking to Meredith and Denver," Ray answered a trace of defeat in his voice.**************

Fraser had tried to encourage Ray to eat some breakfast, but his partner had only managed half a piece of toast. Fraser made his partner take some painkillers, and then coerced him to lie down and rest. Within half an hour, the blonde detective was asleep. Tucking a blanket around his sleeping friend, Fraser decided to take a quick stroll. He now found himself standing in the reception area. 

"Constable," Richard Meredith called walking to join the Mountie. "I hope you didn't mind Philip and I visiting you this morning. We were very concerned about your partner."

"No. It was very kind of you," Fraser replied smiling.

"Please come and meet my wife Susannah," he said leading the Mountie over to his small desk. "Susannah. This is Constable Benton Fraser of the R.C.M.P.," he introduced Fraser to a slender red-haired woman wearing a pale lemon dress. "Excuse me for one moment, I just have to speak to Inspector LaCroix," Richard hurried after the Parisian detective.

She smiled at Fraser warmly. "It's lovely to meet you Constable," she said. Fraser couldn't hide the surprise on his face, and the woman laughed lightly. "You think I look like Philip, don't you?" she said.

"Well you do bear a striking resemblance to Mr. Denver," Fraser admitted.

"We're twins," she admitted her emerald green eyes sparkling with amusement. "He's older than me by five minutes."

"Ahhh," Fraser replied. "That would explain it."

She perched on the edge of the desk, her expression becoming serious. "This is just so awful for Richard and Philip. Their small company had just started to take off, and they have worked so hard on this conference," she said quietly.

"It must be difficult for them," Fraser agreed. "Murder is never pleasant."

"No. It seems so much worse for Philip. It's not been long since his wife and daughter died. He's very upset, as we all are," she said.

Richard Meredith strolled back putting his arm around his wife's shoulders. "I hope you have been entertaining our guest Susannah darling," he kissed her forehead lightly.

"I have just been telling the Constable how awful we all feel about this dreadful business," she said. 

"Yes dreadful," he agreed. Are you sure there's nothing we can do for you or your partner?" 

"No, thank you kindly," Fraser excused himself from the couple and strolled out of the hotel. The sun had begun to shine, and the clouds had disappeared revealing a bright blue sky. He allowed himself a small smile and began to walk slowly along the street reflecting on the events on the past two days. He was worried about his partner, and made a mental note to telephone Lieutenant Welsh on his return to the hotel to apprise him of the present situation.

Finding a small park at the end of the street, he selected a wooden bench and sat down stretching his legs out in front of him, watching the ducks on the small muddy pond. Relaxing in the warm spring sunshine, he couldn't help thinking that he had missed something important. Closing his eyes he slowly turned over all the evidence in his mind trying to remember all the conversations he had been involved in since arriving in London, searching for anything that would connect the two murders. Fraser still couldn't believe that they were the work of a random killer. His eyes shot open suddenly, and he started to run back towards the hotel. Breathless, he looked around the reception for the Merediths. He found Susannah sitting behind her husband's desk. She looked up at his approach, smiling warmly.

"Mrs. Meredith. May I ask you a personal question?" he asked his expression earnest.

She fixed him with a small grin. "Well it depends on what it is," she teased.

"How did your brother's wife and daughter die?" he asked quietly.

Susannah frowned at him considering for a moment. "They were killed in a car accident. It was very tragic," she answered sadly. "It took Philip a long time to get over it. When he came home, he was distraught."

"Came home," Fraser interrupted.

"Yes until about six months ago, Philip lived in New Jersey," she replied a puzzled look on her face.

"Thank you kindly. Have you seen Chief Inspector Shillingford?" he asked scanning the receptionfoyer area.

"Yes. He's with my husband over there," Susannah pointed in the direction of the main dining room. "But why..." she started to say as Fraser hurried towards the dining room.

****************

Ray rolled over onto his bruised arm. He winced in pain opening his eyes. He swung his legs out of bed stumbling to the telephone to order himself some coffee from room service. Ten minutes later, the Room Service waiter appeared with a tray containing a coffee pot, and the tuna sandwich he had also ordered. He poured himself a cup of steaming coffee frowning as he tasted it; it was missing the vital ingredient. "Can't drink my coffee without my candy," he thought to himself taking a bite of the sandwich. Dropping the remainder of his sandwich onto the tray, he picked up his jacket and moved towards the door. He used his best smile on the officer standing guard, "Just gonna stretch my legs."

"The Chief Inspector said you should stay in the hotel," the officer said. "Let me call him to check it's alright."

"No don't bother him. Just gonna go down stairs. OK?" Ray argued as he quickly started along the corridor. "Tell the Mountie I won't be long," he said as he disappeared into the lift shrugging on his jacket.

The lift stopped at the tenth floor, and Philip Denver stepped inside a folder tucked under his arm. 

"Detective," he nodded in greeting. "You look much better."

"Thanks. Hey, ya wouldn't know where I could get some candy, would ya?" Ray asked flushing slightly at the request.

"Candy," Philip looked confused.

"Ya know. Sweets," Ray explained.

"Yes. Of course. I could never get used to calling sweets candy. There's a small newsagents on the corner across the road from the hotel," he replied staring at the detective. "You can't miss it."

Ray shivered slightly at the stare; he didn't know why but the man made him feel uncomfortable. "Thanks." The lift stopped at the second floor, and Philip stepped out. Turning he coolly regarded Ray as the doors began to close. "Goodbye detective," he said.

The doors closed and Ray shook his head puzzled hitting the button for the ground floor. Exiting the lift, he headed for the hotel doors. Sunday traffic was light, and he looked up and down the street seeing the small newsagents on the corner across the road. Looking left, he stepped out into the road. 

**************

Philip Denver watched as the lift doors closed on the blonde detective. He had studied him carefully in the lift. The younger man hadn't appeared to have recognised him, but he couldn't take the chance. He hurried towards the service lift that would take him down to the underground garage. 

He missed Eleanor and Rebecca dreadfully. He had been inconsolable when they had died. He corrected himself - been murdered by the detectives driving their vehicle in a reckless manner. They had only received a reprimand, but Philip had been sentenced to a life without his beloved family. He didn't feel any guilt at their deaths - they deserved to die. He frowned to himself. The Chicago detective didn't really deserve to die, but he had seen him in the alleyway, and it was only a matter of time before he remembered. He would make it look like an accident. Hitting him with the car would be easy as he had witnessed that the detective looked the wrong way before crossing the road. Even his partner would think it was a tragic accident. Throwing the folder on the back seat of the car, he slipped into the driving seat, and gunned the vehicle towards the road.

**************

Fraser hurried towards the dining room. He saw the Chief Inspector deep in conversation with Richard Meredith. Looking up, the Chief Inspector saw the Mountie approaching. "Good afternoon Constable," he smiled warmly.

"Might I have a word with you?" Fraser asked anxiously.

Seeing the worried look on the Mountie's face, he excused himself from Richard Meredith and guided Fraser towards a dining table. Indicating a seat. "Now Constable. What is you want to speak to me about?"

"I was wondering how far you had got with your investigation?" Fraser asked. "I think I have some information that may help you."

"Go on Constable," the Chief Inspector encouraged.

Fraser took a deep breath. "My partner keeps having flashes of the murderer's face. He says he sees green eyes. Philip Denver has green eyes..." he started to say.

"Now just wait a minute. Philip Denver isn't the only man with green eyes," the Chief Inspector protested.

"I know. But he's the only man who's wife and daughter were killed in an accident. I think if you check you will find that this accident occurred in New Jersey, and I believe that the murdered detectives were involved. But I don't really know how," Fraser finished. "This afternoon, I remembered that Detective Wilkins had told me at the welcome dinner about his transfer from New York to Philadelphia five months ago."

"That doesn't prove anything," the Chief Inspector said firmly.

"No, I know," the Mountie replied looking miserable.

The Chief Inspector regarded the Mountie for a moment. "Well I suppose that there's only one way to find out," he stood up moving towards internal telephone. Fraser waited impatiently twiddling his fingers while the Chief Inspector spoke on the telephone for ten minutes. 

"Thank you very much Captain," the Chief Inspector hung up the telephone and returned to the table. "Well Constable. You were right. Sergeant Miller and her partner were involved in a car accident six months ago. During a high speed pursuit, their vehicle collided with a civilian car killing a woman and a child. Their name was Denver," he said shaking his head in disbelief.

"I see," Fraser murmured. "I'm sorry. I know Mr. Denver is a friend of yours."

The Chief Inspector waved his hand dismissively, a sad look on his face. "Sergeant Miller's partner was found dead in his apartment four months ago from an overdose. It was thought he committed suicide, but that's another matter. As for Detective Wilkins, he just happened to be the first patrolman on the scene of the accident," the Chief Constable explained. "The Captain said that his paperwork was exemplary and accurate. Above any suspicion. He just did his duty."

"Did Sergeant Miller and her partner face any charges?" Fraser queried.

"It seems not. Apparently, they were just officially reprimanded. The Coroner declared a verdict of accidental death, and the case was closed."

"Accept that Philip Denver thought the officers concerned should be punished for the death of his family," Fraser said quietly. "Even a relatively innocent bystander like Detective Wilkins. What a waste of a young life."

"Yes it would seem like it. Let's go and find him," the Chief Inspector started for the door. "I'll round up my men. Are you coming Constable?"

Fraser headed for the lift. "I'll just go and check on Ray first. Tell him what has happened."

**************The Chief Inspector was issuing instructions to his men as Fraser hurried from the lift. "Chief Inspector. Ray is gone. Your officer said he was going for walk," Fraser said worried.

"Right Ian. We're looking for Detective Vecchio as well. What are you waiting for? Get going," he ordered. The Sergeant and two officers made for the lift to start a floor to floor search.

Susannah Meredith wandered over curious at the activity. "What's going on Michael?" she asked the Chief Inspector.

"Susannah. Have you seen Philip or Detective Vecchio? It's very important," he asked gently.

"No I haven't seen Philip since breakfast. But I saw Detective Vecchio leaving the hotel a few minutes ago," she answered. Fraser turned and headed for the doors, followed closely by the Chief Inspector and two uniformed officers. Still curious, Susannah followed the men outside, standing quietly on the pavement.

Fraser desperately looked up and down the road. Relieved he saw his partner come out of a newsagents on the opposite side of the road, his hands shoved in his pockets. Ray stepped into the road between a van and a small mini, looking left. Out of the corner of his eye, Fraser saw a silver Vauxhall drive up the ramp from the underground garage. It turned into the road, driving calmly towards his partner. Fraser saw Philip Denver in the driving seat, his knuckles white from clutching the steering wheel. He sensed the car was speeding up as it neared his friend.

"Ray," Fraser shouted in panic starting to run along the road. "Ray."

His partner stepped out into the road. Looking up at the sound of his name and seeing Fraser, Ray suddenly remembered to look right. He looked directly into the green eyes of Philip Denver, who was calmly driving towards him. The face of his attacker, and the murderer, flashed into his mind and he froze.

Half way across the road, Fraser watched as Philip Denver pointed the car directly at his friend. Fraser thought he saw a flicker of hesitation on the man's face, and the car seemed to veer away from the detective. As Philip turned the car at the last minute, the bumper caught Ray a glancing blow knocking him onto the parked mini. He hit the windscreen and rolled off the other side of the vehicle landing heavily on the pavement.

In a screech of tyres, Philip turned the car in the middle of the road, driving back towards Fraser, who had to leap out of the way of the oncoming car, falling back against a small saloon. He saw Philip take his hands off the wheel closing his eyes. The vehicle accelerated, and out of control swerved towards a large laundry van parked outside the hotel. The Vauxhall hit the van hard with a sickening thud of metal upon metal and shattering glass. The quietness of Sunday afternoon was pierced by the sound of the horn, and Susannah Meredith screaming. The Chief Inspector and his men ran towards the wrecked vehicle. 

Regaining his balance, Fraser ran towards the mini, trying to ignore the sight of the broken windscreen. Ray was on his back, blood running down the side of his head where he had hit the windscreen. Kneeling down besides his partner, Fraser felt for a pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt a steady but faint pulse. He gently pulled his partner onto his side to try and aid his ragged breathing. "Hang on Ray. Help's on the way," he whispered holding onto his partner's hand. He looked up as he sensed the Chief Inspector standing over them.

"An ambulance is on the way Constable. How does he look?" he asked crouching down. Taking off his tweed jacket, he covered the unconscious detective with it.

"I'm not sure. His breathing seems to be very laboured, " Fraser said worried. "Is....is Mr. Denver badly hurt?"

"Dead. Killed instantly. Went through the windscreen, and hit the side of the van. He wasn't wearing his seatbelt," he answered a hint of sadness in his voice. 

"I'm sorry. But I think he changed his mind at the last moment," Fraser said.

The Chief Inspector nodded quietly. "I'd like to think so for Susannah's sake." A siren sounded in the distance. "Ambulance will be here in a minute."

**************Fraser sat watching his partner peacefully sleeping. Following his admission to the hospital, Ray had been in and out of consciousness for two days. On the third day, he had fully regained consciousness, but the doctors had said that his partner would probably spend a lot of the next few days asleep. A broken ankle, several cracked and broken ribs, bruising and a severe concussion would keep his normally energetic partner still for a few weeks. He stifled a smile; it would drive his partner crazy having to be inactive for so long. A groan from the bed brought him out of his reverie. 

Leaning forward. "Ray," he whispered squeezing his partner's hand.

"Frase," the detective opened his eyes turning his head to look at his partner. 

"I see you have at last decided to join the land of the living," Fraser teased. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been run over," Ray's blue eyes twinkled with humour.

Fraser laughed lightly relieved that his partner was finally coherent. "You do feel better. Shall I get the doctor?"

"Nah. Help me sit up," Ray asked struggling to lift his head off the pillow. He closed his eyes as the room spun. 

"Ray," Fraser scolded. "I think you should remain laying down."

"Makes me feel like a corpse. Wanna sit up," Ray said stubbornly supporting his aching ribs as he battled to sit up. "Are ya just gonna sit there, or help?"

Sighing Fraser reluctantly helped his partner to sit up, pumping up the pillows behind his back. He made sure that his partner's ankle was resting carefully on two other pillows. 

When his partner was comfortable, Fraser cocked his head to one side, a puzzled look on his face. "Ray. Can I ask you what you were doing in the newsagents when you were told to stay in the hotel?"

Ray blushed looking away. "Getting candy for my coffee," he admitted sheepishly.

"Oh Ray. You could have been killed. I have told you on more than one occasion that your appalling eating habits will be the death of you one day," Fraser said exasperated.

"Ya like yer bark tea. Me, I like candy in my coffee," Ray answered defiantly. "So fill me in with what has happened while I've been outta it," he quickly asked before Fraser started a lecture on the evils of chocolate. While Ray listened quietly, Fraser quickly filled his partner in on the events of the last few days; he agreed with Fraser that Philip Denver had changed his mind about killing him at the last moment. The partners sat is silence for a few moments.

"So when can I get outta of here?" Ray asked breaking the silence.

"When the doctors say so," Fraser replied firmly.

"Frase....," Ray started to protest.

Fraser silenced him with a wave of his hand. "This time my friend. You are not signing yourself out of the hospital. You will stay here until the doctors say you can leave." Ray raised his eye brows and opened his mouth to argue, but stopped at the threatening look his friend shot him. "No arguments this time. I have spoken to the Lieutenant and the Inspector. They are happy to allow us to stay in London for another two weeks," Fraser announced.

"They are," Ray sounded surprised. "Wow, go figure."

"When you have been released from the hospital, we can continue our sightseeing. That's if you want to, and think you can manage on your injured ankle," Fraser said, a hopeful expression on his face.

"Never did get to see Buckingham Palace or the Changing of the Guards, did we?" Ray smiled.

"No Ray. We didn't," Fraser responded.

"And I didn't have to speak after all," Ray sounded relieved.

"Well seems as you mentioned it. Chief Inspector Shillingford asked whether you would be able to present your paper to senior members of Scotland Yard," Fraser said his face deadpan. 

Ray had visibly paled. "Ya didn't tell him yes, did ya?" Ray cried panicked. "Please tell me ya didn't say yes."

Fraser collapsed into a fit of un-Mountie like giggles. "You should see the look on your face," he gasped. "I wish I had a camera."

"Frase," Ray threatened.

Choking back his laughter, he pulled at his collar. "Of course, I didn't tell him yes. Actually he never asked," Fraser admitted smirking.

Ray stared at his friend shocked. "That is totally un-Mountie like. Just wait until I get this ankle cast off. I'm gonna kick ya in the head."

"Understood," Fraser said solemnly.

THE END


End file.
